Fight the Good Fight
by Independence-Day
Summary: Two worlds, one defined by ancient magic, the other modern science, are about to collide in the ultimate clash of civilizations when a long lost secret is found and threatens to destroy them both. AU. Co-Write with JonHarper.
1. Chapter 1

Fight the Good Fight

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable entities belong to their respective owners. JonHarper and I are making no profit off of this story.

Welcome, ladies and gents, to what is sure to be a fun, wild ride. A few weeks ago, JonHarper approached me to help him with his amazing and brilliant idea and I just could not pass up the opportunity to work on such a great story. We hope you enjoy!

For those among you who have an account on , Jon is also posting the story there under the user name Spartan303, so check it out there too.

Alright, let's get this show on the road, folks.

Chapter 1

The attic was a maze of tottering stacks of boxes and tarp covered furniture, cobwebs and dust formed a fine film over nearly every surface, and Hermione thought she could hear the scuttling, scratching noises of little paws, but she wouldn't leave now. She'd promised to organize and clean out the attic for her parents, and, really, it was nice to have a moment away from them. She loved her parents, otherwise she never would have done what she did but it seemed they were struggling to come to terms with it, the betrayal. And it had been a betrayal. Hermione was under no illusions. She'd done the right thing, protecting her parents had been of the utmost priority, but when she'd found them in the United States and reversed the False Memory Charm they'd been… less than thrilled.

Things were still tense, even a year later. It seemed every time her mother looked at her it was with hurt and confusion, and her father? He didn't really look at her at all anymore, just through her. She didn't blame them for how they felt but it still hurt all the same, to be looked at by her own parent's as if she were a stranger, or a ghost. That was partly why she'd agreed to organize the attic for them, to get away from the looks, her mother's sighs and the awkward tension that settled over them every time the three of them were in the same room together. So here she was, picking her way carefully through dust and furniture in an attempt to get to the center of the room, so she could see the whole of the mess and Merlin's beard was it a mess. It seemed like this attic hadn't been properly sorted for years. Still, it gave her something to do besides think, and Hermione was happy to keep her aging father from throwing his back out any more than he already had.

It had only been a few years since the war, just a few short years and already everything had changed. Harry and Ginny were dating, though how happily was up for debate,and he was working in the Auror's office with Ron. Hermione sighed and nudged a box to the side with the toe of her sneaker, looking for evidence of mice. She'd really thought she and Ron might make it there for a while. They'd dated rather intensely after the war, and, for a bit, everything had gone well. It was after they settled, after they relearned how to be normal, that things took a nosedive. Arguments broke out, initially civil, but quickly turning vicious and sometimes cruel. They forgot how to understand each other, how to communicate. It got harder and harder for Hermione to reconcile and forgive Ron's flaws, and it finally just broke when he asked her to abandon her parents. It had taken nearly three and a half years of searching, but she'd finally managed to find them, settled here in the states and not Australia. When she invited Ron to come with her, hoping he'd be there for emotional support, he looked her dead in the eye and asked her why?

Why go get them? Why give them their memories back? Why bring them back to England? They were happy, weren't they? Let them live their lives. They were doing just fine. She'd been so floored, so stunned, so hurt that she'd flung a hex at him, didn't remember what, and stormed out, moving out of their flat and making her way here immediately after. They hadn't spoken since, though Harry occasionally mentioned him in their exchanged letters. She couldn't say she regretted what happened with Ron. She'd always love him, but she'd likely never be in love with him again, if she even was to begin with, or if their ultimately doomed relationship would just be the results of years together and the rush of battle.

Looking around at the boxes and crates, the tarp covered furniture and old bookcases, the chests and tables, the trash bags full of old clothes, and the matted cobwebs, Hermione sighed, lifted her wand, and got to work, happy for a distraction. Levitating and cleaning, chasing out mice and squirrels that had settled into nooks and crannies, brushing away cobwebs and clearing dust; if she hadn't had her wand it would have been a full day's work, maybe more, but with her wand she was able to get things ordered and straightened out in just a few hours, giving her plenty of time to actually dig in and sort through the stored junk. With furniture neatly lined up, old bookcases pressed back into walls and crates and boxes stacked neatly it was time to get down to proper work. Another hour or so in, and Hermione was up to her elbows in faded, aged parchment and paper, and was getting so irritated and frazzled she was this close to taking a break and getting a bite to eat when a small leather bound book caught her eye.

It, along with all the other papers she was currently sorting through, had come out of an old steamer trunk so covered in dust she doubted anyone had sorted through it since it had been stored away up here. The book was small, the cover blank and the leather cracking and dry, bound only by a thin string of leather wrapped twice around the outside and knotted. Settling back onto a box she'd been using as a makeshift chair, Hermione picked and tugged at the knot, momentarily forgetting her wand, and, as gently as she could given the dry, frail pages, pried the little book open to find it filled with the neat, slanting script of one Margaret Carter.

Propping a foot up on the box, Hermione frowned and gently flipped through the pages, looking for ink that wasn't so faded it couldn't be read. Hermione had only met her maternal Great Aunt Peggy a handful of times. Great Aunt Peggy lived in Washington and Hermione had only visited when she was young, so she hadn't seen her in years but those few meetings were enough to paint a rather solid portrait of her Aunt. The woman was determined, kind, but a spitfire, tough as nails and wicked smart, and had always intimidated Hermione a little with her sharp eyes and war stories. Many women had served in the military during World War II but few in her capacity, and here was a woman, who Hermione was related to, that had served her country as an intelligence officer. Great Aunt Peggy had never told Hermione much about the war, and even Hermione hadn't been curious enough to ask too many questions of this proud, elegant woman, and for a while she'd thought she'd missed her chance to get to know her better, particularly since Hermione hadn't seen or contacted her for years. Now though, in Hermione'shands, was a direct line to her Great Aunt, a direct connection she may have never had because of her own limitations, and it was dated 1942, right in the thick of World War II.

Hermione made her way through the diary, skimming passages that hadn't yet faded with time, and carefully reading the ones she could make out properly. Hermione was thrilled to find her Great Aunt had always been a spitfire, and didn't waste her time mooning over handsome soldiers, but concerned herself mostly with her work. Her dedication was admirable, though there were a few things in the entries that didn't entirely make sense. Mentioned several times throughout the book was something called the Super Soldier Project, and then Serum. Hermione, irritated at not knowing something, kept reading in hopes of finding more, but most of the diary was too faded and aged in places, so she turned to the piles of papers and files she'd found locked in the chest with the diary, and started to sort through them, intending to find more, when a knock startled her.

"Hermione?"

"Mum? Over here."

Her mother appeared around the stack of crates Hermione had organized and labeled in the center of the room, smiling in bemusement "Hermione it's almost dinner time. Haven't you finished yet?"

Was it that late already? Hermione looked around and found, through the small circular window across the room, that it was dark outside, and, at one point or another, without even realizing it, Hermione had lit her wand to bathe the attic in a warm glow.

"Oh, no not quite. I've just got to sort through these last few trunks, and I'll be finished."

Her mother smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes "Well. That can wait until tomorrow. Come down for dinner. I've made lamb chops."

Hermione was itching to get back to her Great Aunt's diaries, and to see if the other steamer trunks might have any more information, but with a low rumble and a sudden ache, her stomach announced it was far too hungry to continue like this. Stowing the papers in the trunk, the diary on top, Hermione followed her mother down to the dining room to suffer through another silent, awkward dinner. Her father didn't ask how the attic was coming along, and her mother stared fixedly at her plate through the entire meal, making eye contact only be accident. The tension in the room was palatable, and, finally, Hermione had had enough of it, and left, fixing herself a cup of tea and returning to the attic to get back to work. Her mother didn't even chastise her for failing to excuse herself. Her parents were like totally different people; Great Aunt Peggy's diaries, however, more than made up for the disappointing relationship that had developed between Hermione and her parents.

The Super Soldier Serum, from what Hermione could put together from the paper work and the diary, had been intended to give an average, Muggle soldier immense power and strength, as well as a regenerative healing ability and enhancements to the soldier's overall potential: their intelligence, their loyalty and strength of character, their entire person enhanced to their greatest potential, inside and out. It was astounding to think about, really, what could happen to someone who took this serum. Unfortunately the first test, on Johann Schmidt, led to disastrous results and side effects, and the group nearly abandoned the project, but the scientists working on the project apparently made a few adjustments and made another attempt. Unfortunately, that's where her Great Aunt's diary ended, her handwriting tiny and cramped in the margins from her attempt to include everything, and Hermione couldn't find any more specifics on the project, and nearly gave up finding anything else altogether until she opened the next steamer trunk and found the thing stacked from bottom to lid with journals and diaries similar to the one she'd just finished.

They were out of order, naturally, and Hermione spent hours getting them all organized and in order, but when she finally did she was thrilled to find her Great Aunt had picked up right where she left off on the great success of the Serum when it was used on a soldier named Steve Rogers, and, for the next three or four diaries, he was the primary subject. As sensible as her Great Aunt was, Steve Rogers, at least the image her Great Aunt painted in her diaries, had clearly swept her off her feet. He was, according to this, sweet and loyal, patriotic to a fault, respectful and dedicated, a bit naïve yet endearing. Perfect, really, the complete Prince Charming. That Great Aunt Peggy mentioned more than a couple times how handsome Steve was made Hermione wonder just how honest this portrayal was, and if, perhaps, she'd been a bit blinded by a particularly intense crush.

Hermione knew that feeling well. For a few years Hermione had only seen Ron's good traits. His loyalty and dedication to his friends, and his protectiveness of Harry and herself, his occasional cleverness and stubborn pride, something that'd been attractive to her at one point, and his sweetness… she'd talked herself into forgetting his flaws. His laziness and stubbornness, no longer attractive, as well as his inherent, though fairly unintentional, close mindedness and racism, as well as his absolute determination to have the same, large family that he grew up in, had ended their relationship, not just succinctly, but permanently. Not even their shared history, the war and years at Hogwarts, had been enough incentive for them to maintain civility and contact. Harry was the go between, as usual, but this time the position was a permanent one.

Just the thought of Harry had Hermione suddenly itching to write to him, itching to tell someone who loved and cared for her about her new discoveries, particularly someone who might be just as interested. Harry's family was gone, and he'd never get the chance to know them except through second-hand stories and passed down photographs, so if anyone could understand her desire to get to know her family, particularly when her parents were so distant, it would be Harry. She stood, stretched, put all but an armful of the diaries away, and made her way out to her room. The house was dark, an illuminated clock read three, and Hermione could just hear snores from beyond her parent's door. They hadn't even come in to say goodnight to her, or to remind her to go to bed, something they would have done before.

With a sudden flood of emotion Hermione remembered all the nights her father would bring a steaming cup of tea to her in the middle of the night while she read, and the mornings her mother would let her sleep in, a book pressed to her chest and covers tucked up to her chin. Biting back tears, Hermione rushed to her room and shut the door, practically throwing herself at her desk and nearly tearing the parchment she was writing on in her haste to write to Harry. She desperately missed her friends, their unity and sense of security, and, for the first time ever, she felt lonelier without them than with her parents.

And that was how this entire situation began.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable entities belong to their respective owners. JonHarper and I are making no profit off of this story.

Hello and welcome back! Thanks to everyone who stopped by to leave a review or add the story. Jon and I are thrilled and happy to have you!

Now, this chapter was written by Jon, though I added a scene or line here and there, and, frankly, he's making me look bad, folks, so don't be disappointed when the next chapter isn't as awesome as this one is.

Thanks for stopping by, and please, enjoy!****

Chapter 2 - Man on a Mission

A gentle, but persistent tapping at the window caught Harry's attention as he lay in bed. He'd been there for some time, hands folded behind his head as he stared up toward the ceiling, reflecting on the night's events. It had been a habit of his for as long as he could remember, waking up before dawn, and even though his life had settled down considerably in the intervening years, it was a habit he hadn't been quite able to break. Looking to the window with a confused frown Harry noticed a great horned owl staring intently at him with a letter attached to its leg.

The owl tilted its head slightly as it caught his eye then lightly tapped at the window again. Harry rose quietly and put on his glasses, house robe and slippers, careful not to disturb the red head still asleep next to him before opening the window and allowing the owl entrance.

"Good morning there. What do you have for me?" Harry whispered quietly to the owl. The owl turned its bright yellow eyes to meet his before carefully extending a leg with a note of parchment attached. Harry gently removed the letter and pocketed it into his robe.

"Thank you. Are you hungry? I don't have any owl feed on me at here but I can get something from the kitchen if you like?" Harry asked. The owl hooted in appreciation but shook its head in the negative. It nipped at Harry's fingers as Harry gave it a soft pat before it hopped out of the window sill and took flight. Harry smiled as he closed the window, shivering due to the early morning draft. He pulled the letter from his pocket as he snuck out of the bedroom to let the fiery redhead sleep a bit more.

And she was fiery, as if last night's argument hadn't hammered that point home loud and clear. As passionate in her argument as she was in everything else, that passion was what had drew him toward her and it was a character trait that defined her, and really it could be intoxicating. But Merlin's beard could it also drive him nuts! They'd been arguing again; the same argument they'd been having for the last year. But no matter how they tried to get past it they always came back to their current impasse.

He loved her in every way and relished her presence in the house. Every room he walked into with the scent of her perfume, every loose strand of red hair, every brush of her skin and glimpse of her passing from the corner of his eye was a source of joy and contentment. He knew, to the very core of his being, that he loved Ginny Weasley, but he wasn't quite ready yet to take that final plunge. Despite how much he wanted to. Something was holding him back, keeping his guard and reserve up, but it was something he wasn't quite ready to explore yet. There was still work to be done before he allowed himself to…well…..

He quietly slunk away, taking care not to wake her, red hair spread on the pillows like a crown as she peacefully dreamed.

"Good Morning Master Harry." A diminutive figure stated as soon as Harry closed the door to the master bedroom, breaking him from his train of though.

"Morning Kreacher." Harry greeted the house elf as he drew his wand "Lumos" A warm light illuminated the hallway.

"Does young Master Harry wish for anything this morning?" Kreacher asked with a quizzical tilt of his head and genuine warmth to his voice.

"Tea would be good, Kreacher. I will take it in my study. After that, start on breakfast as I expect Ginny will be awake soon. The usual."

Kreacher bowed again, "At once Master Harry." The old house elf turned and gingerly made his way to the kitchen. Harry watched him go for a moment before turning to in the hallway toward his personal study.

Harry's current study, his office away from the office, was a simple study albeit one rather eloquently decorated. In fact it was the old Black family room, depicting the tree of 'The Noble House of Black' and all those who bore the name. Here and there were smudges that were once burnt faces of blood traitors or those who never lived up to the family's philosophy of what a _proper_ pureblood aristocrat should be. Harry had kept the tree intact and had restored the faces of those scratched off the blood line (an unexpected perk from Sirius having named him his Heir of State, as well as his familial link by blood). He had done so as a reminder and to honor Sirius. The Black family was, for all intents and purposes, destroyed. With both Sirius and Regulus dying before siring sons, the name of Family Black would fall to the banal of history. Though Harry was a Black through his paternal Grandmother, ultimately he was a Potter first and foremost. But that didn't mean he couldn't come here and appreciate all those who came before him and his link to the storied old family; in particular that most important link.

Harry sat down in his padded chair behind his desk with relish before returning his attention to the letter. It was from Hermione, as if the sharp, concise and familiar script of her handwriting hadn't clued him in to that fact already. She'd taken a sabbatical from the Ministry last year once she got a positive bead on her parents. Her intention had been to reverse the memory charm and bring them back to Britain now that the threat of Voldemort and the Death Eaters had passed.

Harry snorted at that.

Rather than finding them in Australia, where she'd sent them, she'd found them in New York instead, having gone there almost straight away. How _that_ had happened was something that caused the Obliviator Department to scratch their head in some confusion, before coming to the conclusion that using an Obliviate coupled with a false memory charm had caused some…quirks in the spells to manifest. They assured Hermione that it was nothing serious, as such thing had happened before from time to time in the past. Harry was liable to trust their judgment on this, as they were the experts, though Hermione had remained hesitant and concerned for a while.

What was supposed to have been a holiday had dragged on to a month, then two, before Hermione was forced to admit that there were 'complications' that prevented her from returning immediately with her parents. He was sympathetic, of course, but her boss at the Department of Mysteries was considerably less so. In the end she had taken the sabbatical stating 'family reasons' and had not been seen since, though she still kept in touch.

"Master Harry, your morning tea." Kreacher said as he placed the cup of tea and saucer down at the corner of Harry's desk.

"Thanks, Kreacher," Harry said as he took the cup and carefully sipped from the hot liquid. Smiling in satisfaction he placed the cup on the saucer. "Excellent, as usual."

"Kreacher is most happy to serve." The old house elf smiled and bowed. "Kreacher will now start on breakfast and wishes to inform Master Harry that Mistress Ginny is awake."

Harry acknowledged with a nod as Kreacher turned to leave and vanished off to the kitchen. The old manor had become brighter since Harry had taken ownership, though he had inherited a fortune from his father and God-father, he worked at the Ministry as an Auror. His moderate wages didn't go far but a bit of creativity and Ginny's eye for a good bargain had let them turn it into a home. And he was far more inclined to listen to her than to spend money needlessly on frivolous extravagance. Still, he was impressed with that they had accomplished together. They had opened up the gloomy curtains, gave it paler colors, brighter carpets, better light fittings to turn it into something far less oppressive. The furnishings were traditional, both Ginny and Harry liked the older look, cherry woods, reds, rich colors for the chairs and sofa to contrast the walls and carpets. He had to admit Ginny knew her stuff, it was almost a different place.

Almost.

Look closely though and there was still the character of the old home. Many of the ornaments, the pictures, the heavy Grandfather clock and carved bed, among other bits and baubles, could still be found scattered through the house, left by Harry to both maintain the house's history. It was his home, no, their home, but beneath that rested layers of tradition and stories and lives he could not and would not disturb or dishonor. The bricks and mortar were the same as his flesh and blood, in a way it was as much family as a dwelling and its walls spoke of the legacy of his lost ancestors, whispering their stories and standing firmly behind him. It belonged to him, and he belonged to it.

Harry turned his attention back to the letter and eagerly opened it. Holding the letter in one hand to read, he grabbed his cup of tea in the other, enjoying the refreshing liquid as he went over his latest communique with his distant friend.

There was the usual pleasantries, how was he? Were he and Ginny doing well? How were things at the Ministry? She was doing well, enjoying the weather in New York and itching to get back to work. Then she went into the heart of her letter and for the next fifteen minutes Harry read slowly and carefully as Hermione poured her heart out to him.

There was nothing particularly surprising in it at first. Harry had suspected that the complications, as Hermione had so delicately put it, had been her trying to mend fences with her parents, who had taken the news of what she had done quite badly. But as he read, the tone of her letter began to change from a mournful melancholy to one of brisk excitement. She sounded like the old Hermione again, eager to share about a particularly exciting discovery she'd made. It was a welcome change.

As Harry read on, he found himself just as confused as he'd been back in Hogwarts when Hermione would go on about her various discoveries and plans. She was thrilled, ecstatic – he could practically _hear_ her gushing through the letter – and Harry was, well, rather nonplussed about the whole thing, really. To say Hermione had a knack for this sort of discovery would be a bit of an understatement. If it was out there to be found, trust that Hermione Granger would find it. And while it did make for some interesting reading, Harry just wasn't convinced of its importance.

He'd lived among Muggles growing up, but his exposure to that world was limited and skewed by living with the Dursleys, so maybe he just didn't get what all the fuss was about. They hadn't exactly been the most loving or informative of guardians, which was perhaps being a bit more generous than they deserved, and as soon as Harry came of age his Aunt and Uncle were quick to be rid of him.

Dudley was a different matter, as he'd made attempts to reach out to Harry. They corresponded by owl post, much to Harry's amusement and Dudley's annoyance, and occasionally met at a mutual café they both frequented when time permitted. They talked about family, their times growing up, often with Dudley apologizing for certain events, and chatted about their plans for the future. Dudley seemed keen on making amends and forming some sort of relationship with him…and Harry wasn't entirely disagreeable to the idea. After everything Harry had been through in the last few years, holding a grudge against Dudley Dursley seemed both trivial and beneath him.

Harry shook off that odd moment of introspection and then focused on the contents of Hermione's letter with a more clinical eye. The idea that Muggles could create something as amazing as this 'Super Soldier Serum' was surprising, but nothing Harry considered revolutionary or particularly threatening. He was a wizard; after all, some Super Soldier Serum wasn't likely to cause him much trouble. And while it made for interesting reading, it wasn't something he considered a concern, particularly since he had enough to be concerned about. Of more importance to him was when he would get one of his best friends back home, and Hermione hadn't mentioned a time to expect her back.

A gentle tapping at the door pulled him from his thoughts as he looked up to the smiling red head peeking in on him, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes "Morning luv. Bathrooms all yours. Kreacher says breakfast will be ready in twenty."

Harry felt warm contentment settle into his belly at the sight of Ginny, but was slightly disappointed at her strained greeting. It seemed the ghost of their argument from the previous night would cast its shadow over them this morning, much to his disappointment. "Thanks. I'll be down shortly."

He got up, letter still in hand and returned to their bedroom. He set the letter down on a convenient night stand and then went into the bathroom to complete his morning ritual. Fifteen minutes later he came out freshly showered, shaven and dressed in his Auror uniform.

He moved to the kitchen at a sedate pace as he took in the sights. The house was quiet this early, and as Harry walked into the main living room, he stopped as he took a moment to let his gaze settle on the portraits on a nearby wall. The wall of Heroes. Faces greeted him with smiles, but said nothing as they gazed at him. Familiar faces of those who had lost their lives in the last war; Fred Weasley, Sirius Black, Remus and Nymphadora, Mad Eye Moody, Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore. They all gazed at him with looks of respect and solemn nods, though Fred appeared to be trying to set a water pail over Snape's picture, much to Dumbledore's amusement.

His eyes lingered on each for a moment before he sighed and moved into the kitchen. He kissed Ginny lightly and sat down next to her.

"Sleep well?" Harry asked as he poured himself a cup of tea.

Ginny smiled "Yes. You? I noticed you were already out when I woke up."

Harry handed over the letter from Hermione and then began making a plate. He would need his strength today if his leads panned out.

Ginny sat back in her chair and read the letter as Harry dug into his plate with aplomb.

Ginny clicked her tongue in disappointment, "Still having trouble with her parents I see."

Harry nodded and sighed, "I think she'll be gone for a while yet. It doesn't seem like she's having much success."

"She can't stay away from work much longer, Harry." Ginny replied. "If she does, McMillan will be forced to let her go. The only reason they haven't done it already is because she's Hermione Granger."

Harry nodded in resignation, "I know."

Ginny turned her attention from the letter and glared at him, "And _you_ can't keep asking them to give her more time."

Harry returned her glare in equal measure "I _know_."

Ginny pursed her lips and returned to reading the letter and then frowned. "What is a 'Super Soldier Serum'?"

Harry smirked, "Read on. Hermione goes into quite a bit of detail about it."

Ginny kept reading and then lowered the letter. "Interesting but hardly important, don't you think?"

"Not really," Harry admitted, "but it's been a while since she was that excited by anything."

Ginny snorted, "I know. Still, I wish her parents would just get over it and forgive her already. I don't get why they're so upset."

"Well, I'd imagine getting oblivated and then having your mind altered by someone you love and trusted without asking your permission would leave one feeling violated and betrayed." Harry replied blandly.

"She did it for their own good;" Ginny huffed, "They're Muggles, Harry. You know what the Death Eaters would have done if they'd gotten a hold of them."

Harry's eyes took on a distant look for a moment before hardening, "I have a good idea." Harry took a deep breath to calm himself, "Can we not do this so early?"

Ginny glared at him for a moment, then her features softened "You're right. I don't want to fight again."

They ate in tense silence until they finished their breakfast. Harry was on his second cup of tea before finally deciding to break the silence.

"Are you going to visit your mother today?"

"Yes. She wants to go to Diagon Alley and do some shopping and then visit George. And spend some _quality_ time with us."

"Asking why she doesn't have a staple of grandchildren yet?" Harry smirked.

"George is a committed bachelor. He has no intention of getting married anytime soon, much less having children."

"Bill and Fleur sort of set the bar, eh?"

"Yes, and they plan another. But you know Mum. She won't be happy unless she has more to dote over and spoil."

It had been a source of amusement at first. The Weasleys had always been sort of oddballs by Wizarding standards by having a large family rather the smaller ones with direct lines of succession. In that regard much of the pureblood aristocracy looked down on them as being only a step above Muggles. But the Weasleys had persisted and enjoyed a large family full of love.

Now though, it was becoming a source of tension between Harry and Ginny. Molly had been putting pressure on the two to hurry up and get married and start on a family, but Harry wasn't ready yet.

"Yeah, I know." Harry said. "Isn't George still dating Angelina Johnson?"

"Yep, but they're taking things slow. Much like _we_ are…"

An uncomfortable pause.

"Yeah…so….your mother still sending howlers to Ron?" Harry asked trying to divert attention away from what was looking to be another impending argument.

"At least once a week." Ginny snickered. "Serves him right it does."

Harry wasn't exactly in a position to defend his longtime friend. So he didn't.

"So, when does pre-season training camp begin?" Harry asked.

"Another three weeks." Ginny said. "We have a good team, and we think we might have a shot at the Quidditch cup this year."

Harry frowned. "Three weeks? I thought pre-season camp didn't start for five weeks?"

Ginny grimaced, "The pre… pre-season training. Sorta like what Wood did back at Hogwarts. Train earlier, train harder, train longer. Keep running plays till you see them in your sleep. Captain Jones is cut from the same cloth as Wood. She's determined to get the cup this year before she decides to take maternity leave to start a family."

Back to that again.

"Well, I need to get going."

"Are you going to be home at a decent hour tonight?" Ginny asked, a hint of something stern in her voice.

"I should be home by six." Harry said rising from the table and kissing her gently.

"Bye, then." Ginny waved as Harry made for the main foyer and out the door and apparated into the chilly morning air.

**Ministry of Magic  
Central London.**

Harry arrived at the Atrium with little fanfare. It wouldn't be for another thirty minutes before people started coming in to work, meaning it was relatively safe for Harry to Apparate straight into the Atrium without worrying he would Apparate into someone. In the intervening years since the second war with Voldemort, the Atrium hadn't changed much; black carven stone denoted the interior walls of the Ministry with red brick mortar outlining various offices on multiple levels, with a view of the Atrium itself. Fireplaces lined either sides of the wall, occasionally lighting up and depositing someone traveling via floo network, and up ahead was The Fountain of Magical Brethren, having been _lovingly_ restored to all its prewar glory, no expense spared, despite how badly the Ministry had been trashed, thank you very much.

As Harry drew closer to the fountain he couldn't help but smile as he spotted a familiar figure through the thin crowd sitting at the fountains edge, reading a paper. Vibrant, neatly cut red hair framed light skin and blue eyes that were glued to a newspaper and nearly oblivious to everything else.

Harry chuckled; Ron had hardly changed much in the intervening years. He'd finally stopped growing, and he'd filled out a little bit more, mostly muscle, but he was still the same friend Harry had always known. His financial situation had also improved, as he was currently buying into the Georges shop as an equal but silent partner, though occasionally he helped out more actively when George needed it. His grooming skills and taste of clothing were also markedly improved, though Harry attributed that more to Hermione beating it through his thick skull than any motivation on Ron's part. Even after their breakup it seemed to have stuck. Gone were the ragged hand-me-down robes and in their place was clothing more suited to a man coming into quite a bit of money. In the years since the war had ended, Ron had found his legs and had quite a bit going for him.

Then he and Hermione had imploded.

As Harry got closer he suppressed a scowl at what he saw his friend reading: today's edition of The Daily Prophet.

**AVENGERS: FACT OR MUGGLE FICTION?**

**PENNED BY Rita Skeeter.**

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed good naturedly, "Honestly Ron, I still don't know why you read that garbage."

Ron lowered the paper and smirked, "Says you mister 'Savior of the Wizarding World'."

Harry returned the smirk as Ron folded the paper and stood up. "Ah, so that's what they've been spouting about me lately, is it? Before that it was…a lot of very unflattering things. Besides, I seem to remember you standing with me through all of it."

"And Hermione," Ron said evenly, but Harry could sense the undercurrent of turmoil in his voice.

"And Hermione. And neither of you two get half the credit you deserve." Harry added. He decided to change the subject, "So, the Prophet still going on about what happened in New York?"

"It's all they've been able to talk about for the past four months." Ron sighed in frustration. The two turned away from the Atrium and began making their way to the DMLE level of the Ministry. "I kinda get it Harry, an alien attack. I mean, _real_ aliens. It's not something any of us ever thought about, ya know?"

"Never crossed my mind," Harry replied.

The two turned a corner and moved down a hallway through light traffic.

"Exactly Harry, but how you suppose the Muggles were able to beat them back like they did? Or even respond to the attack as fast as they did? There's talk of very little else."

"Exactly," Harry responded, "they're locked in meetings all day talking about it, trying to form 'contingency' plans in case we come under attack. And they're getting nothing done in the process. It's complete rubbish. The last case the DMLE closed successfully was ThorfinnRowle just a week before the mess in New York happened and we haven't had a good lead since. There's still more than half of Voldemort's inner circle still out there running free, doing Merlin knows what."

"I hear you, mate." Ron agreed. "Seamus and Dean feel the same way, but we don't have the manpower to chase all the leads we do have. Besides, something solid will turn up soon. It always does. Or…" At this Ron began to look around to make sure no one was listening in and then whispered. "Or maybe you could put some pressure on your source to give us something?"

Harry gave Ron a dark glare at that question.

"Right, shutting up now, mate." Ron quickly amended.

They arrived at the elevator and punched in the number for their level. As the gate closed Ron fidgeted slightly and then looked at Harry uncomfortably,

"I don't suppose you've heard from Hermione?"

Harry suppressed a sigh. He'd been expecting this. He fished out the note from his pocket and handed it to Ron. Hermione hadn't given Harry any special instructions not to let Ron see her letters and it was a tradition of theirs' to share their letters with the other two. No sooner had Harry handed over the letter that Ron began tearing into it with rapt interest.

The lift opened on their level and Harry stepped out, grabbing Ron by the arm and carefully guiding him to their shared office through the surprisingly crowded hallway.

"Morning Harry, Ron" Neville greeted the pair as soon as they stepped in. Seated next to him, hidden behind yet another edition of the Daily Prophet, were two figures that waved absently, but otherwise seemed too engrossed in their reading.

Terrible manners that.

"Morning Neville, Dean, Seamus" Harry dropped his bag at his desk and went to them to see what had grabbed their attention.

It was as he guessed. It was yesterday's edition of the Prophet. It showed a picture of six individuals standing back to back in a circle; the first was what could only be described as green troll roaring a challenge at the creatures around him. The second was a determined looking archer drawing an arrow from his quiver, the third was of a tall blonde Nordic man with a red cape brandishing a deceptively non-descript hammer that sang with mystical power. The forth was of beautiful woman in a skintight jumpsuit reloading a muggle gun and looking fierce. The fifth was of a man in star spangled outfit and shield who exuded a commanding presence, clearly the team's leader. And finally landing next to him was man encased in metal, proudly wearing the red and gold of Gryffindor. All of them looked strong, resolute and prepared to take on the alien army by themselves.

And Harry couldn't help but admit the picture was a welcome change from the Prophets usual images showing Muggles as witless idiots.

**WHO ARE THE AVENGERS?**

**PENNED by Rita Skeeter.**

"Bloody… can't you guys give it a rest already?" Harry huffed in minor irritation, "Four months now and all the Prophet can talk about are these Avengers. It's almost like they've forgotten our own problems."

Dean's head popped up from over the paper, "It's big news, Harry. How often do you hear about Muggles doing amazing stuff like this? It's fascinating."

"Ron's got this morning's paper, trust me they're already starting to question everything about these Avengers." Harry said.

He knew exactly how the Daily Prophet operated from brutal experience. They would spend an inordinate amount of time building you up and then just as suddenly they'd start tearing you down. After the war the Prophet, their reporters and editors, had remained largely untouched by the Ministry's purges of those who were suspected of being sympathetic to the Death Eaters and their cause. The Prophet had laid low for about a year and a half after Voldemort's fall, but after that they apparently decided the storm had passed and it was business as usual.

Seamus and Dean perked up, "Oi Ron, can we get that paper when you're finished?" Seamus asked.

Ron's head snapped up distractedly, "Oh…ah…yeah sure here you go." He grabbed the paper and tossed it to Seamus who caught it with a smile before he opened it up. Dean seamed torn between reading his current paper or abandoning it to read along with Seamus.

"Morning Harry," Two feminine voices spoke in perfect harmony.

Harry turned and smiled at the sight of Susan Bones and Parvati Patil, "Susan, Parvati; how are you both?"

Parvati smiled, "Good, and you Harry?"

"Same." Harry turned to Susan "And you, Susan?"

"Good, all things considered" She handed Harry a stack of reports. "I bring you joyous news from Dawlish, and gifts."

"Thank you."

Harry grabbed the reports and began thumbing through them; intently reading some while skimming over others. They were a series of reports on the DMLE's current investigations into the whereabouts of the remaining Death Eaters, their activities and if they were recruiting. So far Harry wasn't liking what he was reading, because right now it was adding up to a whole lot of _nothing_.

"Ah….Harry?" Ron spoke up from his desk next to Harry's.

"Yes, Ron?" Harry asked absently even as he kept reading through the reports.

"What's a 'Super Soldier Serum?"

That comment grabbed everyone's attention.

"What was that Ron?" Seamus asked.

"Hermione's notes mention some sort of Muggle potion called the 'Super Soldier Serum', it's kinda scary reading actually, what this potion can do."

"Neville, Dean and Seamus leaned in clearly intrigued while Susan and Parvati shot Ron dirty looks.

"And what are _you_ doing reading her letter anyway?" Susan scowled.

Harry held up a hand to forestall another argument. "Not _this_ again…please?"

The girls had never quite forgiven Ron for the nasty breakup between him and Hermione, placing the blame entirely on his shoulders. Harry thought they were being a bit unfair to him, but that didn't excuse Ron from his share of the blame either. Ron and Hermione had never been right for each other, a fact that Harry had come to realize only after the fact. Growing up he had seen they were diametrically opposite in nearly everything, yet they had gravitated to one another growing up. Then when the war was over it had completely fallen apart; and rather publicly at that.

"We aren't going to rehash this old argument. It's a waste of time," Harry said firmly and eyed each of them individually. The look on his face brokered no dissent. "Is that clear?"

Everyone mumbled in the affirmative and Susan muttered something that sounded almost like an apology, but was too muffled for Harry to make out.

It was Neville who got them back on track.

"So, ah, Ron, what about this Super Muggle Potion?"

Harry beat him to the punch, "It's a muggle formula that gives the person who takes it super strength, speed, stamina and an increased healing factor."

Seamus and Dean traded eager looks "Wicked!"

Neville looked very thoughtful, but didn't reply.

Susan and Parvati looked doubtful and eventually it was Parvati who voiced that doubt.

"How can they do that without magic? It's impossible."

"Is she sure the Muggles actually made it, and not a potion they just stole?" Susan added. "Cause we do have potions that grant temporary boosts to strength, healing and the like."

Harry shook his head, "Positive. Besides those potions affect only one attribute at a time and not all at once, and not permanently. Which is what that Muggle serum does. No, Hermione was positive it's a muggle creation and not something magical."

"But how? Muggles can't do stuff like this." Susan asked.

Harry shrugged, "Who knows? Can we change the subject to something more productive, like these reports on the Death Eaters?"

Harry turned to see Ron giving Hermione's letter a look he couldn't quite place, as if his mind had latched onto a tangent of thought that none of them had. Harry had seen that look before usually when Ron interjected with one of his rare moments of keen insight. Harry expected him to say something or add to the subject of the Miracle Muggle Potion, but he said nothing. Instead he folded the letter carefully and handed it back to Harry.

"I'm with Harry on this. Let's get to work."

And that's exactly what they did. The hours seemed tick away like minutes as they followed up through reports and leads, but nothing came up that actually warranted a full investigation. It was frustrating, as Harry was itching for any sort of progress.

Just after the Battle of Hogwarts the Ministry's DMLE had ceased all operations against the Death Eaters for the very practical reason that the Auror office had virtually ceased to exist. The Ministry hadn't gone after Voldemort's inner circle simply because they couldn't.

Over the course of the next year the Ministry had spent that time rebuilding itself into something that could simply function. Harry remembered those days. The days of optimism that they would change things for the better. Kingsley had done a remarkable job in not just rebuilding the Ministry, but also improving it. He had removed many laws on the books that no longer applied or simply made any sense. In particular, he had made life far easier for Halfbloods and Muggleborns everywhere, by slashing laws designed to limit opportunities in business and government long denied to them.

It had made Kingsley very popular in many circles. But it also made him _very_ unpopular in others. And Harry, Ron and Hermione had been with him every step of the way to carry out his vision.

In that first year Harry, Ron and a number of other former students had volunteered to join the Aurors. The once proud organization had been gutted to almost nothing during Voldemort's grip over the Ministry.

Given a condensed and rigorous training program under the tutelage of John Dawlish they had formed the backbone of a new Aurorcorp; though much smaller in terms of size, it was never the less one far younger, stronger more aggressive and eager to hunt down Death Eaters.

The next three years would see these young but tested men and women have unparalleled success by capturing almost half of Voldemort's inner circle, in addition to nearly all his mid-level lieutenants, financial and political backers. But they still hadn't caught the other half of Voldemort's inner circle: Avery, Dohlohov, Mulciber, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, Nott, Travers and many others.

They were out there, and Harry was determined to get them.

It was just after noon, and the team was about to head out for lunch when there was a knock at the door. Standing there was the head of the DMLE John Dawlish.

"Harry, how are you and your team coming along?"

Harry rose and shook Dawlish's hand in a firm grip. The two were by no means close or even friends, but they did work well together. Dawlish had taken the position as head of the DMLE due to the fact there was no one left for the job. As a field Auror he had a somewhat better than mediocre career, but in the intervening years he had proven himself a capable administrator as well, if not an overly creative one. He had managed to rebuild the Aurors into something respectable and gave Harry wide latitude to run his field team as he saw fit to spearhead the hunt for the remaining Death Eaters. Dawlish administrated while Harry led. It proved to be a very amicable relationship.

"John" Harry greeted, "Things are going….positively nowhere." Harry replied bluntly.

Dawlish nodded as if he had expected that answer.

"Before you head out for lunch, I'd like a moment."

Harry nodded and turned back to face his team. "I'll meet you all in the Atrium shortly."

The team shared a glance and quickly filed out with Ron being the last.

Harry and John were began walking down the corridor slowly.

Harry began without preamble, "You don't have to say it. Yaxley doesn't know anything more than what he's already given us. I figured this out ages ago."

Dawlish's impassive features didn't change one iota "No, he's doesn't. We've pretty much exhausted that source of intelligence with the capture of Thorfinn Rowle. By the way, if you haven't already, extend my congratulations to Auror Weasley for singlehandedly taking him down."

Ron had been having a particularly bad day that week. Earlier that morning he had received yet another howler from his mother to start his day. After putting up with Parvati and Susans' snarky and demeaning commentary throughout most of the afternoon, not to mention a run in with his sister had left Ron in a highly irritable and foul mood. Harry was just about to order Ron home to cool off when they got the message that Thorfinn Rowle had been located. The team had promptly apparated within minutes of getting the news. Upon arriving at their destination they were disappointed to find nothing, but Harry's instincts told him to not give up. The group had split up into two man teams and had spread out to cover more ground. Oddly rather than team up with Ron like he normally did, Harry had instead assigned Neville to him.

It had been dark out, late afternoon turning to early evening with a thunderstorm pouring rain by the bucket loads. Conditions on the ground were absolutely horrible, so it could be forgiven when the team had spread themselves a little too far apart during their search. The first realization Ron had that something was wrong was when Neville dropped face first into a puddle of water and didn't move; hit in the back by a bludgeoning spell that, thankfully, didn't kill him.

Instinctively Ron dove for cover and barely avoided taking a spell to the face. Rowle had shown himself then, as big and intimidating as he'd ever been, almost as big as Hagrid. He taunted Ron with how he was the weak link of the golden trio, the hanger on, the one who would always be in Potter's shadow. And Ron, who'd had a shit day to begin with, finally snapped.

Harry had arrived minutes later to find a much calmer and very smug looking Ron standing over a very beaten and bloody Thorfinn Rowle.

Harry grinned, "I'll be sure to do that."

The two walked at a sedate pace through the dark carven stone corridors as they carefully avoided the rush of traffic to and from nearby offices.

Harry ducked out of the way of a few interdepartmental memos flew just inches over his head. "I want to take my teams and sweep some of these locations again." Harry handed over one of the reports Dawlish had given him earlier. "If we leave now we can sweep most of them and still be back in plenty of time."

Dawlish shook his head "Harry we've already swept those locations at least three times. There's nothing at any of them."

"When was the last time we looked?" Harry prompted.

"Two days ago. The team turned up nothing."

"That's not good enough. We should be searching those hideouts daily!"

"Harry, you know better than anyone we don't have the manpower for that. They've gone to ground after Rowle was taken down. In fact, we haven't heard anything in over a week. It's like they've just up and disappeared."

Harry frowned, "That _is_ a bit odd. Usually we hear _something_ of their doings on a weekly basis."

Dawlish nodded, "I can't explain it and no one has any ideas about it either. This isn't like them but no one seems overly concerned."

"_I'm_ concerned!" Harry replied hotly.

One of the major things that had made Harry and his team so good at hunting Death Eaters was that they were just so predictable in their actions. Harry knew how they thought, their tactics, their world view and how they reacted to changing circumstances. He anticipated and planned for their actions and counter actions and more often than not turned their own plans against them. This had given Harry and his team the initiative and had fed his growing legend, despite how many times he publicly protested it wasn't just him alone, but the Prophet, among many others in the Ministry, seemed keen on making him Wizarding Britain's Living legend who had become an Avenger of the common folk.

Harry was _not_ amused with the parallels drawn between him and the Muggle team of the same name.

"I take it you didn't come down here to talk about that." Harry surmised.

Dawlish's lips twitched in amusement, "No, I did not."

Harry regarded the man with wary suspicion, "Okay, out with it then, cause I think I have an idea what this is about."

"The Wizagamont would like you to sit in on this afternoon's session."

"I see," Harry said flatly. "And what does Kingsley have to say about this?"

"_Minister _Shacklebolt, as ever, leaves the choice squarely in your hands." Dawlish replied sternly. And here he stopped and turned to face Harry directly and his face softened slightly. "Harry, I would strongly suggest you attend. I know you don't like the Wizagamont. Hell, even I barely tolerate them. But they are necessary. If you keep snubbing them they will take it personally and they _will_ make you pay for it in some way. Do not make an enemy of them."

"Thank you for that, John. I shall try not soil my pants or shake in my Basilisk skin-boots at the thought of pissing off the Wizagamont."

Dawlish sighed in frustration, "So, I take it you won't attend?"

Harry smirked, "So I can what? Sit on a useless session that pertains to nothing important? Maybe listen to a bunch of self-important pureblood families prattle on about some theoretical muggle threat? Or...hell, maybe even aliens this time!" Harry chuckled bitterly. "No, I'm sorry, John. I have better things to do with my time, like track down and capture the men responsible for nearly tearing our society apart. So please, send my regrets to Minister Shacklebolt that I will be unable to attend. And please…inform the Wizagamont they can kindly suck wind."

Dawlish shook his head in resigned acceptance. "I warned you Harry. Remember, you have no one to blame but yourself."

Dawlish held out his hand in which Harry took it in a firm handshake as the two men parted ways. A few minutes later Harry arrived at the Atrium to find his team waiting for him by the fountain.

"Dawlish try to get you to go to the next session of the Wizagamont?" Seamus replied knowingly.

"Of course. Naturally I told him that I would be unavoidably detained." Harry answered.

Dean, Ron and Parvati snickered but Neville, Seamus and Susan looked very uncomfortable at that statement.

Harry was quick to pick up on it. "I've explained my reasons to you all before. And I know this session won't be anything important. So, whose day is it to pick lunch?"

"That would be me." Neville spoke up. "In fact, I heard of this _wonderful_ little restaurant in York's that serves the best fish and chips. Figured it was worth taking a _look_."

Harry eyed the piece of parchment in Neville's hand that look suspiciously like the report he'd read earlier that day. He smiled as his eyes took a very predatory gleam "You know Neville, I think fish and chips sounds absolutely _brilliant_."

Dean was smirking too, "We can be there in just under a minute by Floo."

Harry looked around and he could see the entire team had this knowing look about them.

Harry turned to Neville "Then by all means Neville lead on."

The team grabbed Floo powder and went to adjacent spots in the Floo network and were quickly whisked away in green fire.

**Later that evening.**

"Well that turned out to be another dead end," Ron said sourly as he plopped himself down behind his desk.

"I'm sorry guys." Neville apologized.

"Don't apologize Neville, I would have done the exact same thing. It seemed to be the most promising lead we've had in a while," Harry sighed dejectedly.

"I didn't think the guy was gonna run though. Good catch with that Anti-Aparation field Dean, otherwise we would have lost him. He was all piss and vinegar; saying how he wasn't going to cooperate till Harry showed up. About pissed his pants he did." Seamus related, "What was his name again?

"Thomas Eugene Brannon." Susan relayed from memory, "A 'Seeker' of rare objects and artifacts who can find nearly anything….for the right price. In particular he deals in in rare antiquities, exotic and highly questionable potion ingredients, jewelry and muggle contraband."

Ron snorted, "A thief then like Mundungus Fletcher."

Dean shook his head sadly, "Actually Ron, probably worse. But the Ministry hasn't had anything solid on him to send him away to Azkaban, and since he's turned informant to us we've kept the pressure off him, so long as he isn't doing anything too illegal."

Parvati scowled "And those are just the dealings _we_ know about or suspect. There are rumors he does an inordinate amount of business in the Muggle World."

Seamus nodded, "Makes sense as he is Muggle born. He likely didn't cut ties to the muggle world completely. We could be dealing with a potential breach in the Statute of Secrecy. This could warrant a follow-up investigation at the least."

"Don't bother," Neville spoke up, "Susan and I took that case three months ago. He isn't violating the statute. But he's come close to skirting the line a couple of times." Susan nodded to confirm this.

"Doesn't matter. Fact is he didn't know anything." Ron pointed out. "Which leaves us right back at nothing."

Around him the members of his team either sat in their chairs or the edge of their desks; all of them showing signs of the same frustration Harry felt.

"What time is it?" Seamus asked.

Dean looked at his watch. "Almost six. I'm knackered. You guys?"

Susan and Parvati nodded in the affirmative. Looking to his left Harry could see Seamus and Neville also nodding, if a bit more reluctantly.

"There's no point in staying. Go home, rest. I'll see you all in the morning. Tomorrow we start again. This doesn't end till we have every one of them rotting in a cage where they belong." Harry stated with a touch of anger in his voice, but it wasn't directed at them and they knew it.

They all stood and nodded and Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. They were the best team he could have ever asked for; each one as loyal and dedicated to one another as if they were members of their own family. And they were the best at what they did. Their record as a team already matching Aurors who had decades on the job. He was immensely honored to say he knew them. He was even more humbled by the fact they looked to him as their leader.

It was a responsibility he took very seriously.

As they left for the evening, sans Ron, Harry couldn't help but lean back in his seat, remove his glasses and rub his eyes tiredly.

Ron smirked as soon as he straightened up, "We've been in a bit of rut mate. Even before the Death Eaters pulled this latest vanishing act."

"Going around in circles is more like it." Harry admitted. "Though I must admit this is a new play for them. Its unexpected and I don't like it." Harry shook his head and shrugged, "Well, there's nothing that can be done about it tonight." He stood and noted with curiosity that Ron was still sitting at his desk involved in his paperwork."Ron, that can wait till tomorrow."

Ron seemed to sink into himself at that statement "I know Harry, it's just…I don't want to go home just yet. Got nothing to go home to except an empty flat."

Harry smiled in sympathy and put a hand on Ron's shoulder in support. He hated to see Ron hurting like this. "Come on, mate you can have dinner with Ginny and I. Kreacher should have it ready by the time we get back."

Ron shot him a horrified look, "No, thanks. I already dealt with a howler this week. The last thing I need to do is deal with a living one! Ginny never lets me hear the end of it!"

Despite himself Harry chuckled, "Come on Ron, she's not _that_ bad."

Ron snorted, "Says you! My ears didn't stop ringing for a week after the last time we had dinner. She's completely nutters!"

Harry did have to admit that Ginny had a very powerful set of lungs. He usually enjoyed it in a certain capacity, but not when she was angry and felt the need to voice that displeasure…._loudly_. Just the thought of Ginny brought a smile to his face as he thought of walking through the door and whisking her into his arms.

Ron noticed the goofy smile and love struck look and rolled his eyes, "Go home Harry. Really, I'm just going to stay for another hour and catchup on this paper work. I mean it's not like a lead is going to drop right into our lap or anything."

_**SNAP!**_

Almost as if summoned by Rons declaration, a note of neatly rolled parchment materialized on Harry's desk. Harry and Ron blinked at it for a few second before exchanging bemused looks.

"Holding out on me, Ron?" Harry asked cheekily.

"Only my big mouth. It's been known to produce results on occasion." Ron replied blandly.

Suddenly feeling reenergized Harry pulled out his wand and with a muttered spell carefully scanned the letter.

"Is it bobby-trapped?" Ron asked.

"Booby-trapped, Ron, booby-trapped." Harry corrected absently.

Harry frowned as the results were relayed to him, "Well,there are definitely curses, jinxes and a whole assortment of protective enchantments to ensure the note isn't read by anyone but its target. In this case me." Harry looked up with a frown, "I don't recognized half of these enchantments either. Hermione certainly doesn't use anything remotely like this. Its….it's" Harrys frown dropped into a scowl, "It's tied to me _by blood_. Anyone other than me tries to read it and it's a one way ticket to Saint Mungos."

Ron looked pale and sick at the idea, "So who would go to all this trouble just to send you a letter?"

Harry's face still retained that hard edge as he answered, "I have a pretty good idea."

Ron's eyes widened in surprise then his face lit up, "You mean your…your source, right?"

Harry shot him an exasperated glare at the question.

Ron sank into his seat, "Right, shutting up now."

Harry returned his attention back to the note and tore it open and began to read. A minute later he dropped it to his desk with a troubled expression on his face.

"Bad?"

"I don't know. Guess I'm about to go find out."

Ron knew instantly what that meant and stood up at once. "Not alone you're not."

"Instructions said to come _alone_." Harry countered. "I'll be fine Ron."

Ron snorted, "Famous last words there Harry, usually before you go charging off to do something stupid."

Harry laughed, a deep mirthful laugh as he dispelled the tension that had been rising inside him like a knot.

"It'll be alright, Ron. Trust me. Hopefully this won't take too long.

Ron nodded with clear reluctance. "Alright then. But you come straight back here, okay? Otherwise I'll put in an alert to the ministry."

Harry nodded, "Fair enough, mate,"

Harry stood, took a deep breath and apparated.

**Malfoy Manner**

**Wiltshire, England**

Malfoy Manor hadn't changed, and Harry doubted it ever would. It was still large and grandiose, elegant without being ostentatious, with a sweeping lawn enclosed by tall hedges and a long walkway lined by white rosebushes. Gleaming white peacocks strutted and called to each other, startled by Harry's sudden appearance, but unafraid. As Harry made his way up the path to the house, he wondered if the peacocks were the Malfoy's version of an alarm, their calls and cries were nondescript and not unexpected, but likely notable enough to alert the Malfoy's to visitors, welcome and otherwise.

His theory was proven correct when the large oak doors opened before Harry had knocked. A house elf, tiny and worn, with large blue eyes, ushered Harry through the door and insisted on taking his cloak before guiding him through the large, open foyer and down a hall to a study, where Lucius Malfoy was seated behind a dark wooden desk, brow furrowed as he read over paperwork. The house elf announced Harry's arrival and Lucius looked up and smiled thinly.

He stood "I must say I wasn't expecting you so soon, Mister Potter."

"I came as soon as I got your invitation." They shook hands tightly "I'm not interrupting anything am I?"

"Yes, actually." Lucius guided Harry over to a pair of leather chairs next to a large window and invited him to sit "Thank you. Your timing is excellent."

Harry smiled. Though he and Lucius were on decent, occasionally friendly terms, Harry was well aware Lucius was only being so welcoming because their –ahem- friendship, a term used loosely, made Lucius look good in the eyes of the Wizarding community.

"Drink?" Lucius asked, gesturing to bottles of wine positioned on a cart near the window.

"No, thank you, I can't stay long. I'm just here about the information."

Lucius poured himself a decanter of wine and sat "Ah, Draco was right. You are impatient." Harry frowned and Lucius held a hand up in a placating gesture "Just making an observation, Mister Potter."

"If you don't have any information for me-"

"The Death Eaters are mobilizing." Harry froze, muscles locking.

"What? Where?"

"The United States." Lucius answered.

Harry raised an eyebrow "How do you know?"

"Dolohov contacted me."

Harry's hands clenched at the name as memories threatened to overwhelm him. He could see Hermione writhing in pain from Dolohov's concocted curse. He saw Remus and Nymphadoras prone figures, Fred's lifeless eyes staring blankly at him. And in that moment all he saw was red. It took all his brutal self-restraint to push the rage back to where he kept it bottled.

"Where is he?" Harry demanded instantly, and Lucius shot him a look.

"What makes you think he'd tell me? Yes, I'm still informed, but I don't have the sway with them I once did. My loyalty is already being questioned. It seems something of a coincidence to them that I was the only one not present when the Auror's busted in on a meeting several months ago. You're welcome, by the way."

"Yaxley and Rookwood wouldn't talk in interrogation, and it seems Rowle's not going to either." Harry pointed out.

Lucius shrugged "They're in custody, aren't they? Three more of the Dark Lord's inner circle under lock and key? I'd think you'd be thankful."

Harry sighed "Why are they going to the states?"

"Now that I don't know; Dolohov invited me along, a test of loyalty I think, but my reputation is on shaky enough ground with the Ministry as it is." He looked at Harry oddly, but Harry couldn't read the expression "It's only thanks to your intervention and our -ah- _friendship_ that I'm not in Azkaban. Again."

"D'you know what might be in the states that'd interest them?"

Lucius lifted an eyebrow, as if questioning Harry's intelligence "You don't?"

Harry narrowed his eyes "Why should I?"

"I'd think it's rather obvious." Harry opened his mouth to reply, to press for details, but Lucius continued "They've found something there, something likely to do with those muggle heroes everyone's on about."

Harry frowned "What would interest the Death Eaters about them?"

"What about anything interests Death Eaters? Power." He took a sip of wine "Those muggles are exceptionally powerful and it's far too much of a coincidence that, only months after they've defeated an extraterrestrial army, the remaining Death Eaters would mobilize and move to the United States."

"What if it's only a coincidence?"

Lucius gave Harry a dark look "Nothing is coincidence."

Harry rubbed his temple "What d'you think they've found?"

Lucius shrugged "I've no idea. Whatever it is, it won't be good for the rest of us."

"So you don't know for certain if they've found anything?"

"Not for certain, no, but they're too… eager. Hopeful. The only reason for that would be because they've found something that would of use to them. Something that would help them." He smirked "I've never seen Dolohov in a good mood, but he was downright _giddy_ in his letter. It was rather disturbing."

"No one has seen him since the battle of Hogwarts. Now suddenly he's back from wherever he's been holed up?"

"So it would appear." Lucius confirmed.

"Can I have the letter?"

"Certainly. I've no use for it. I'll get it for you when you leave."

The door to the study opened suddenly and Narcissa Malfoy strode through, a letter in hand, "Darling, dinner is almost- oh, Harry. I didn't know you were here." She shot her husband an annoyed glance for not informing her of their guest. He had the intelligence to avoid her gaze.

Harry stood and greeted her with a smile, remembering the moment she'd lied to Voldemort, saving his life "Mrs. Malfoy, how are you?"

"Very well, thank you. And yourself? Lucius tells me you've been busy."

"Always."

Lucius interrupted the pleasantries, much to Harry's relief "Is that a letter from Draco?"

"Yes." He stood to accept the offered letter and Narcissa answered Harry's questioning look. "Extended honeymoon in the United States. He and Astoria are expanding the family business there and doing quite successfully. Draco's already developing contacts at the American Department of Magical Affairs." She quirked an eyebrow at Harry "You received an invitation to the wedding, yes?"

Harry nodded "I didn't feel it'd be… appropriate, for me to attend."

Her expression softened a bit "We would have been happy to have you and Miss Weasley, Harry." She paused, lifting a disapproving eyebrow at Lucius, who was reading Draco's letter a little hurriedly, frantically, if Harry didn't know him better, then turned back to Harry "Will you be joining us for dinner? I can have our house elf set another place."

"No, that's quite alright, I just came to, er, check in."

She glanced at her husband "He's told you about Dolohov's letter, then? Good. Nothing good can come from him." She turned to look more fully at Lucius "It makes me nervous, Lucius, thatDolohov seems to have more power."

He nodded, lowering Draco's letter "Yes, it's… worrisome. He was always a fair bit more ambitious than he was intelligent."

"You think Dolohov's taken over lead of the Death Eaters?" Harry asked, irritated Lucius hadn't mentioned in sooner.

Lucius nodded "Most likely, though I haven't any definitive proof, of course."

"And you have no idea where he is?"

Lucius shook his head, walking to his desk and leafing through a pile of parchment. "My wager would be New York, but he didn't say outright." He pulled a small sheaf of papers from the pile and returned to hand it to Harry, "Here's his letter. I've told you everything I know for certain, but maybe you can glean more from this than I." His tone took on a slightly mocking edge, but Harry didn't mind. He had the letter, Mr. Malfoy could be as condescending as he liked. It was his way of trying to maintain the advantage over Harry, but both of them knew who was paying off a life debt to whom.

Narcissa nodded in agreement. "New York, most certainly, if that's where those muggle heroes are; if we find out for certain, however, we'll alert you immediately."

"Thank you." He was a little startled at Narcissa's willingness, and openness, to help him, but he imagined it might be her way of repaying Harry for telling her about Draco.

Lucius nodded "If you're not in a hurry there are few things I'd like to discuss with you in private. There are minor details to go over. Actions that can be taken in the interim while they are away to erode their support base even further. I believe you may find it most refreshing."

Harry realized that dinner was likely growing cold on the table and Ginny was no doubt huffing angrily. But he was doing this for her, for all of them.

"I have the time."

**Department of Magical Law Enforcement.**

**Ministry of Magic.**

Harry walked into his practically deserted office some time later and halted suddenly at the red-head still seated at his desk. It was late and most of the Ministry had gone home for the night, leaving the place nearly deserted. So Harry was surprised to see Ron was still here.

"Thought you would have gone home already." Harry stated when Ron looked up.

"Promised to wait for you didn't I?" Ron shrugged, "Besides, I caught up on all my paperwork. It's definitely one thing about this job that I can do without."

Harry snorted, he was in complete agreement about that.

"Don't worry about Ginny. I floo'd her about an hour ago and told her you got called away on urgent Ministry business. Nothing dangerous, but it required your immediate attention and couldn't wait. She wasn't happy about it but she said she expected something like that."

Harry smiled gratefully, "Thanks, Ron. I didn't know what I was going to tell her."

Ron smirked "I told her the truth. Which is exactly what this is." Ron nodded to the letter he saw clutched Harry's hand. "I take it your source, whoever he is, came through again, eh?"

Harry's eyes hardened and his face took on a hungry almost predatory look "Oh yes…he did."

Ron sat up straighter "Now we're talking. What'd he tell you?"

"Dolohov is back. My source seems to think he's taken over the remaining inner circle and is now their leader."

Ron's face hardened to match Harry's. 'Dolohov….he's been gone for over four years now, mate. Suddenly he's back? Why? What brought him out of hiding?"

"Apparently something in the United States has grabbed their attention, got them hopeful. My source seems to think it has something to do with those Muggle Super Heroes the Prophet keeps prattling on about."

Ron went from looking very angry to deathly pale in an instant and Harry could see the wheels turning in his mind. Ron was on to something, something Harry could only guess at.

Harry looked at Ron with grave concern. "What?"

"When did they leave for the states?"

"They left yesterday morning, apparently. Before that, Dolohov returned a few weeks ago and began slowly consolidating things under him. Considering what's left of their organization I can't imagine that was very hard to do."

"Harry….when did Hermione send that letter?" Ron asked. The question enough seemed odd to Harry, but Ron's tone of voice seemed to indicate he was on to something.

"She sent it a couple of days ago. Five, I think, factoring in trans-Atlantic travel for owls. I just got it this morning. Why?"

"So, Hermione sends this letter. In it she goes on about this Muggle super potion. Then suddenly, that same day, you find out the Death Eaters have split the country and are heading to New York? Harry, don't you think that's a bit more than a coincidence?"

Harry frowned, noticeably skeptical. Lucius had been hinting at something in New York having caught the Death Eaters attention, and now Ron was hinting at the same thing. He had been inclined to dismiss Lucius Malfoy's speculations as just that, idle speculation. But now, here was Ron, his best mate, saying virtually the same thing. It was enough to make him question his own thoughts on the matter and at least listen.

Ron must have sensed an opportunity as he continued on, "Harry, you read the same note I did, right?"

"Of course I did."

"In that note Hermione went into detail about that Serum, about what it did."

Harry nodded, "Yes. Enhanced super strength, reflexes, speed, optimal health and enhanced system of regeneration. Yeah, I got all that."

Ron frowned. "You must of missed the biggest part of that then." Ron got up and went to Harry's desk and fished out the letter. He skimmed for a bit until he found what he was looking for. "Here it is." He handed the letter back to Harry and pointed to a particular part. "Read that again."

Harry sighed and took the note and began reading the section Ron had highlighted.

…_One can only imagine what Professor Snape would have said about it, but it's none the less very real and very fascinating.  
_

_Harry, I cannot begin to tell you the wonder of this discovery. This Super Soldier Serum is unlike anything I've ever seen. Its effects are almost magical on the body, but utilizing Muggle science. As far as I can tell from my research, the effects are completely permanent. Physically, the Super Soldier Serum enhances the body in every conceivable way: physical strength and muscle mass are amplified several times over, but to what degree I don't know, my Great Aunt Peggy's notes clearly specify super human levels of strength with unlimited endurance to the subject's cardiovascular and muscular systems. Speed and reflexes are also enhanced, again to an unspecified but clearly super human level. Overall health seems to be improved as well._

_Harry, this serum was given to a young, sickly man and in a matter of moments turned him into the height of physical perfection with no lasting issues of illness; even chronic issues like Asthma, anemia and other congenital issues seemed to have been resolved instantly by the serum. It's simply astounding!_

_As far as mental capacity, the Serum seems to enhance the mind as well: adaptability, creativity, critical thinking and memory and recall are enhanced to a significant degree. It's amazing what this Serum can, do Harry, just think of the possibilities! If Muggles could create something like this, think what else they can do!_

_And Harry, none of this compares to the real gem of this Serum. From my research, the Serum seems to have an effect that transcends the physical, enhancing more than just mind and body. The serum was designed to take everything about its subject; every positive trait about them and enhance it to optimal, and sometimes beyond, levels. Think about that Harry, an entire persons' potential and character enhanced and optimized, and what's more, realized by taking this serum._

_Harry, if this proves true, then there could be an army of Muggle Super Soldiers out there and we wouldn't know it. I am worried about the implications of this. It could potentially be….._

Harry stopped reading at that point as he finally caught on to what Ron was implying. "Ron,you're suggesting that the Death Eaters know of the Serum and they're going to the United States to get it for themselves?" Harry asked slowly and deliberately.

Ron nodded solemnly, "That's exactly what I'm saying, Harry."

Harry was still skeptical, "Okay, I'll bite. Let's say that you're right and the Death Eaters are after the Serum. How did they learn about in the first place?"

Ron pointed to the letter in Harry's hand. "You're holding it in your hand, mate."

Harry shook his head "That's not very likely Ron. Hermione uses all manner of security enchantments and jinxes. There's no way they could have broken them."

Ron gave Harry a funny look. "If you're desperate enough anything is possible, Harry. And think about it. People call us 'The Golden Trio' because we were the ones most responsible for bringing down 'You know Who'. In the eyes of a lot of people, good and bad, that makes us important. You don't think people are intercepting our mail to get intelligence on what we're up to?"

Harry hadn't actually given that much thought even though he should have known better. The Ministry had intercepted his mail before and it wasn't such a huge leap to think the Death Eaters would do the same to try and keep tabs on him.

Harry nodded, "Okay, I can buy that one. But-"

"—Why would they go for the Serum?" Ron anticipated.

Harry nodded.

"Harry, you're my best friend, but you can be incredibly thick sometimes." Harry shot Ron an annoyed look but held his tongue. Ron was clearly onto something."That muggle potion doesn't just enhance the physical and mental like Hermione said. It enhances _everything _about you. Your entire potential enhanced, and realized by taking that serum. Everything Harry. _Everything_. And the Death Eaters are just desperate enough to believe it. Harry we've been closing in on them for months now. Put yourself in their shoes. You have Harry Potter, the man who defeated the Dark Lord, hunting you down. Most of your allies, your friends, are either dead or in Azkaban, thanks to now he's hunting _you_. You intercept a letter from Hermione Granger, the witch who's considered the brains behind the great Harry Potter, about some super Muggle potion that could give you super powers and could tip things back in your favor. What would _you_ do?"

The implications of what Ron was suggesting hit Harry like a bludger to the face. He felt almost physically ill at the thought. The Death Eaters thought this Serum could enhance everything about them, enhance their _magic _even. Harry didn't know if such a thing was even possible and he didn't want to find out, particularly from a Death Eater hocked up on this Serum. Ron certainly gave a compelling argument not to ignore this.

Harry felt the strength leave him and he slowly collapsed into his chair. How did he not think of this?

Ron shook his head gravely, "The irony of all this is that if anyone else had written that letter, the Death Eaters would probably have ignored it, but because it's Hermione, they're giving it all their attention. They learned not to underestimate her, not to ignore her. They know she's dangerous. They know she's scary smart. And they know she's most likely right."

Harry cradled his face in his hands and he took a few deep calming breaths before he finally looked up and met Ron's eyes.

"They have a day's head start on us. I need to contact Dawlish and the Minister, they're going to want to hear this. We need to go after them. We're going to need the ability to operate in the States, and I don't think the Yanks are going to be too thrilled about that."

He stood at the same time Ron did.

"You want me to Floo the team? Get the back in here?" Ron asked

Harry shook his head, "Not yet. Let's wait till after I talk with the Minister and Dawlish."

"I'll go with you" Ron said.

Harry smiled gratefully and the two left to find the Minister. It looked like they were going to be burning the midnight oil.


End file.
